The working-class area, with a large Hispanic community, has many concerns and seeks city help to make changes.
By ALEXANDRA ZAYAS
Published November 18, 2005
Tiny points of light illuminated the dark, poorly paved roads of Palmetto Beach as 30 residents rallied to remind the city of a neighborhood they believe has been forgotten.
As they banged on pots, neighbors peeked out from their living rooms to investigate the commotion. They read signs they could understand: En la oscuridad, no hay seguridad. In the darkness, there is no safety.
Leading the Nov. 11 rally was the Association of Community Organizations for Reform Now (ACORN), which organizes residents in low-income areas to campaign for neighborhood improvements.
For the first time since she moved there 20 years ago, Elisa Figueroa found a voice. ACORN named the 57-year-old Mexican housekeeper president of a new neighborhood association it organized for Palmetto Beach.
She rattled off her concerns for the community in Spanish, hoping someone from the city of Tampa would listen.
"You can look at the park over there, it's so dark. The kids come here to do drugs. All the streets are horrible. The worst thing is that the cars fly by here, and there are a lot of young kids playing around here," she said.
"I wish they'd do something for this neighborhood, really. That's why we're doing this, to see if they listen to us."
Palmetto Beach is largely hidden among the industrial facilities near the Port of Tampa. It's bounded on the north by the Atlantic Coast Line Railroad and the city limit line, on the east by the city limits and eastern shoreline of McKay Bay, on the south by the city limits and Hillsborough Bay and on the west by Hillsborough Bay and Ybor Channel.
The area largely has been home to working class Hispanics and transient workers but recently has gained the attention of developers. Its location close to downtown and the water has made it a desirable place for redevelopment. In 2003, the city built a public swimming pool at DeSoto Park.
Despite the changes, many residents feel isolated by barriers of language.
Recent immigrants don't understand the government well enough to find the appropriate channels to voice their concerns. They also don't have the time.
"This is a working-class community, and we work most of the day. The city shuts down at five. A lot of us work until that time," said Javier Ramirez, 38. "It's not something that's easily done, to get to the City Council."
But they're working on a plan. They want a roof over bus stops so neighborhood kids don't get wet while waiting for a ride to school. They want English language classes so 70-year-old Aida Cuan doesn't have to rely on neighbors to translate her light bill. They want to meet with Mayor Pam Iorio.
